Blackout

Maxwell Reed, the tall dark, handsome hero, with the Robert Mitchum one liners and 'droopy' eyelids, does a reasonable job of playing the amateur sleuth in his attempt to find the masterminds of a smuggling racket. Reed's portrayal is a direct take from Mitchum's world weary and cynical anti hero, Jeff Bailey, in the film 'Out of the past.' As in so much American film noir of this period, to raise the level of fear and tension, moments of danger are enhanced the use of the camera which presents the main characters in twilight and shadowy situations. Reed's accent is a sort of 'mid Atlantic' and after a while frankly grates on the ears as it's neither one thing or another. His 'Mitchum' sleepwalking demeanour and his cynical quips are shamelessly copied from American film noir, but they seem out of place in 1950's London. It's as if the director is trying to inject some sparkle and excitement into the action. However, on hindsight, it may have been more appropriate to have simply cast a genuine American actor for the part. The film starts promisingly enough with a temporary blind Reed being assaulted and knocked out in an London flat. Reed's encounter with Dinah Sheridan, the sister of the pilot killed in air crash two years earlier, prompts him to pursue his attackers and find out what they were really trying to achieve. But half way through the film, the storyline begins to meander and hence lose its 'punch' and ends up becomes tedious. Eric Pohlmann as usual is excellent, playing the foreign villain, with solid support from Michael Brennan cast as the chief 'henchman.' However, Sheridan is largely a spare part, who seems to spend most of her time getting in and out of cars. There's no sexual chemistry or 'frisson' between her and Reed, thus rendering the relationship as 'flat' and frankly dull. Maxwell Reed reminds me of an early Roger Moore, an average actor who seems to get by with snappy one liners and good looks! Nevertheless, the film is worth a look.

Many thanks to the other reviewers who have clued us in that Maxwell Reed, leading man of Blackout, was attempting to put on an American accent. Yours truly and the grouchy old wife were speculating on what nationality he was -- perhaps Canadian. His lingo didn't sound like any of the usual British accents, yet he certainly did not sound like an American of any known species. Actually there is no one "American" accent, but at least two dozen distinct dialects. My home state of Texas can account no less than six regional variations on the "Taxsun" dialect, which some people think should be regarded as a separate language -- especially damn Yankees who have recently relocated here. But I digress. Reed's attempt to sound like an American, if that is really what he was trying to do for whatever reason, was quite pathetic. He just sounded like and Irishman with a bad head cold.

No one would ever mistake Maxwell Reed or any other Britisher for an American. Yours truly and the grouchy old lady, as we watch these quota quickies and other British productions, always marvel at how this bunch speaks English, yet is no more like us Americans than Italians or Spaniards or Croats. There can't be any other race anywhere as wooden as the British. Stiff upper lip? They're stiff from head to toe! You have to wonder how they know when it's time to bury one of them. And Maxwell Reed was surely one of the stiffest of the stiff! In no scene of Blackout can he be detected moving any of his facial muscles more than one sixteenth of an inch. Leading lady of Blackout, Dinah Sheridan was not far behind. How does a director direct them to act when none of them would show any more emotion for a hurricane than for a hangnail? Not to say that there were not excellent British actors. But most of them, such as Ronald Coleman, David Niven, Merle Oberon, Greer Garson and Herbert Marshall, were usually to be found in Hollywood. If Reed and Ms. Sheridan had ever relocated to that land of big productions and high salary, it is unlikely either would have ever risen much above the level of bit player.

Not that we don't enjoy the occasional product of fair Albion's cinema. For all its shabby production values and bland acting, Blackout was not such a bad little crime thriller. Pacing was a bit of a problem. Everything rolled along at a continuous breakneck speed with no chance to catch your breath or reflect on the doings. Perhaps they were afraid of running out of film. The score was just background music which did little to enhance the drama or action and was quite irritating at times. However, the cinematography, as with most of these Brit pence-pinchers, was very decent, while the story and the action kept your attention. Enjoyable if you are in the right mood -- and keep a stiff upper lip!

I found BLACKOUT to be a routinely-plotted thriller with an interesting storyline. The only problem with it is that it's hampered by a relatively low budget which means there are few memorable set-pieces or exciting moments to distinguish it from other fare. It was put out by the Baker/Berman team at Tempean Films, with Baker himself directing from a script by John Gilling (who apparently never slept during this stage of his career).

The film boasts a great opening sequence which is the definite highlight. Maxwell Reed (THE CLOUDED YELLOW), suffering from temporary blindness, ends up at the wrong address and literally stumbles upon a recently-deceased corpse. You have no idea how this same scenario was used time and again in British B-films but that's because it's a good one. The murderers are still on the scene but, learning of his disability, decide to let him live. He's discovered the next day but of course the police don't believe his story and there's no trace of the murder.

Sadly the film shifts down a gear after this point. Reed regains his sight and becomes the ordinary amateur detective, trying to solve the murder and bring down the criminal gang. I would have preferred him to remain blind throughout and have Dinah Sheridan's love interest acting as his eyes as this would have made for a more unusual and thrilling production. I suppose that would have been too outside the box. Still, the running time is short and the pace is fast, both of which are good things, and the requisite twists and turns of the plot keep you watching.

There's a nice little set-piece in a posh apartment complex involving the concierge, Reed breaking into a room to commit a robbery, and a couple of thugs on his tail. It plays out very nicely. BLACKOUT also benefits from a decent cast. Reed isn't my favourite leading man from this period but he's decent enough here. Sheridan is as classy as ever. Kynaston Reeves plays a crotchety old fellow while Annette Simmonds is an effective gangster's moll-type character. Eric Pohlmann is the slimy villain and the great but underrated Michael Brennan his brutal thug. Ronald Leigh-Hunt and Michael Balfour have cameos, but although Sam Kydd is listed on the IMDb cast page, I failed to spot him this time.

A blind man stumps by mistake into a murder and, as he doesn't know who, why or where, nobody believes him. The premise is interesting, but from there on the film spirals down and rapidly acquires a US made Republic Serial flavor, where the hero is again and again stupidly putting himself in trouble with the baddies but luckily --as the baddies aren't that clever either-- saving his neck every time. The hero breaks and enters and breaks and enters, and he is so lucky --did I mention he is lucky?-- that he not only survives but twice he easily finds decisive clues that the baddies --did I mention they weren't clever?-- left carelessly around for him to find. Everything but going to the police; obviously, that would be too absurd. We all know that amateur detectives are always much more competent than Scotland Yard's trained detectives. To help, all the time Reed is walking around with a marmoreal face that seems to scream: "look how handsome I am". Perhaps to compensate all his beauty, the female lead is quite plain and, in the final take, she looks downright ugly. I had much higher expectations, especially being this a British film. (Perhaps I was so predisposed because the most recent British film of that era I watched was "Obsession"... and that is entirely another matter.)

It starts out very promising with a bland blind man walking towards a moving camera and thinking out his rather wooden thoughts but the viewer is quickly undeceived – it's another low budget film from Baker & Berman. This is proto-Saint, except it has robotic Maxwell Reed playing a cold hard-boiled engineer unable to mind his own business. Along with his fanatical sleuthing he also shared a high-rise coiffure with Roger Moore.

When blind he's a er witness to a murder, after his sight is restored he's eventually convinced he actually did stumble across a foul deed and goes on a convoluted chase after the baddies. And there turns out to be a lot of 'em too, the film gets littered with corpses of the murdered variety. Outside of Leslie Charteris and Peter Cheyney this is the kind of thing Americans always did best, seventy years later gunplay is still pretty rare in the UK…so far. Also they were always better at B films too, British B films merely looked like they were made by children. And Americans will always be better at American accents. At least Dinah Sheridan was in here as dependable as ever as the hero's backup, while there are so many other familiar faces at their day jobs too – crusty Kynaston Reeves, sweaty Eric Pohlmann, lumpy Michael Brennan, and Patric Doonan, Campbell Singer to name a few. As well as the vanished faces and morals a vanished Britain is also beautifully on display, with some occasionally nice photography. But is the film any good? Well no, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. Could I recommend it to anyone? Well no, but hopefully I'll watch it again sometime just to make sure.